


Spoils of War

by RaspberriesInCaramel



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Begging, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, F/F, Master/Pet, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Penis In Vagina Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Sex, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Simultaneous Orgasm, Size Difference, Teasing, Trans Female Character, elf/orc relationship(s), unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 18:40:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18016271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaspberriesInCaramel/pseuds/RaspberriesInCaramel
Summary: Alanthe understands the traditions: if the orcs can make her come, she will belong to them as surely as her village does.  Might extend this later.





	Spoils of War

**Author's Note:**

> Mild dubcon warning! Everyone is of age, sober, and involved of their own volition, but the situation includes a pretty big power imbalance that would be coercive irl, hence the tag.

I hadn’t expected the orc general to look like this.  First of all, I had been expecting a man; I don’t know why.  Second, while I knew orcs were tall, I hadn’t expected someone so… statuesque.  Someone with legs like tree trunks and tusks like polished porcelain, one of which was ringed with gold.  Someone with wine-red tattoos marking status and accomplishments in battle, yes, that I was prepared for--someone with muscles that rippled, who could pick me up and rip me limb from limb--but someone with a graceful neck and a head shaved bald as space for even more tattoos, someone with a sharp, perfect jawline under those tusks… I was not prepared.

I curtsied to her and said the Orcish phrases I had memorized.  “My lady, I am Alanthe Goldbrook. I come as messenger and as tribute of my village’s surrender.”

The general smiled, her eyes narrow and hungry and creasing at the corners.  “A lovely tribute,” she said in lightly accented Common. “Oknath, send word that we accept the surrender.  Alanthe, do not move.”

I could feel my heartbeat in my throat as she tied a rope around my wrists, neither tight enough to be uncomfortable nor loose enough for me to move.  My pride and my self-preservation rattled in my head, and my body wanted to fight or run, but I had volunteered to be tribute, and tradition demanded I obey the general’s orders.  If I tried to escape, the surrender could be considered false, or construed as a last-ditch attempt to assassinate the general. If I stayed, if I obeyed, the orcs’ honor would keep my village safe.

The general led me by my bound wrists into the largest, sturdiest tent.  Inside, a short, round orc with long tusks was poring over a book. He bowed when we entered, and she bowed in return.

“Hello, Igurg!” said the general pleasantly.  “Levitate the tribute, please.”

The other orc nodded, said something in Orcish, and swept his hands through the air in a circular motion, ending with an open-handed sweep upwards with his palms facing the roof of the tent.  I scrambled, trying to gain traction, as my feet left the ground, but the reflex was futile; in a moment I was suspended helplessly a foot or two above ground, so that I was at eye level with the general.

Her tusks looked even bigger up close.  “Thank you, Igurg,” she said, smiling at him.  “Please give us a while alone now. Tell the camp only to disturb me if it’s urgent.”

“Of course, General Murzuth.”  Igurg bowed again, picked up his book, and left. The general bowed back, and then turned to me.

“Alanthe,” she said, and smiled.  It was the kind of smile one might give a trusted friend--no, a disobedient child--no, a lover--no, a pet.  She took the end of the rope tied around my wrists and tied it to the beams of the tent.

“Just in case the spell wears off prematurely,” she said cheerfully.  “It won’t, of course, but if it did I couldn’t have you falling on the floor.  Now…” She placed a hand gently on my waist. It reminded me of the young elven gentlemen I danced with at balls, except that her hand was twice as large.  Yet her touch was just as light.

“You know the circumstances under which you come here,” she said, rubbing her thumb against the side of my ribcage through my soft white dress.  I held my breath. “You know that the messenger of surrender is also the offering.”

She paused, and I realized she was waiting for an answer.  “Yes,” I said. My voice came out in a whisper.

The general smiled.  “Yes, what?”

“Yes, ma’am?”  My voice was so small I could hardly hear it, but the general nodded.

“Ma’am is good,” she said quietly, and smiled wide enough to show the teeth behind her tusks.  “You may also call me General, or General Murzuth. Or…” She leaned in close, and I felt her other hand cup the side of my face as she stroked my cheek with her leathery thumb.  “You may simply call me Murzuth,” she said, her voice low, her breath hot against my ear, “if you’re very, _very_ good.”

“Yes, General Murzuth,” I whispered.  I had stopped holding my breath, but now it was short and ragged.  I inhaled deeply, trying to steady myself, and was taken aback; she smelled like smoke and leather and rich berry wine.  I had the bizarre thought that, if I licked her armor, it might taste sweet.

“Perfect.”  Her hand on my waist stroked lower, tracing the shape of me, until her thumb was rubbing gentle circles against my hipbone.  “Are you ready now, Alanthe? Or should I wait to claim you?”

I blinked.  “You’re… giving me a choice?”

“Of course!”  The general drew back, her eyebrows knitting together and her full lips frowning around her tusks.  “Your hands will have to stay bound longer, of course--can’t have an unclaimed tribute running around freely--but if you’d rather not be touched, you don’t have to be.  Or you could choose another orc from this camp to claim you, if you wished.”

“No,” I said immediately, and then blushed.  “I--I’d rather get it over with. Have my freedom.”  I lifted my chin and looked her in the eye.

She chuckled.  “We’ll see about that, little elf maiden.”  She tickled me under the chin. “I suppose you won’t be offering any assistance, then.”

“Of course not.  I have my pride.”

“That’s all right,” said the general.  “I’ve always loved a good challenge. Now…”  Without looking away from my eyes, she began to smooth her hands over my thighs, feeling the shape of them through my thin skirt.  “So lovely. Let’s get you out of this, shall we?”

The sound of my skirt ripping filled the tent before I could respond.  The general had taken it in two fists and pulled, tearing off nearly half of the thin fabric.  The dress’s new hem was ragged and hung just above the middle of my thighs, barely covering my ass.  My cheeks felt warm.

“Much better,” General Murzuth purred.  She tossed the scraps of skirt away and rubbed her palms over my bare thighs, warm and gentle.  I squirmed. “Such a beautiful tribute. And you’ll make such a beautiful consort.”

Her hands crept up under my skirt, and when her fingers brushed my bare hips, her mouth opened slightly.  She looked at me and raised one pierced eyebrow, dimples forming in her cheeks. “No undergarments, little elf?”

I shook my head.

“Did you perhaps volunteer for this on purpose?”  Murzuth cupped my ass in both hands, then brushed over my inner thighs with her fingertips.  I shivered, whimpering involuntarily. “Sick of being courted by elves? Secretly desperate for a strong, powerful orc general to make you hers?”

“I--”  Just as I opened my mouth to deny it, to say that my nakedness under my dress was meant as a sign of submission and understanding, she dragged a finger over my pussy.  I cried out. Her fingertip slid over my clit, wet with my slick, and I moaned.

“Did you dress like the little slut you are?” Murzuth crooned in my ear, sliding her finger over my clit in teasing circles.  “Did you want to be fucked as soon as possible?”

I bucked my hips forward, trying to get more friction, more pressure.  But I had no leverage, and the general withdrew her finger as I moved, matching me millimeter for millimeter.  I groaned.

“No, ma’am,” I insisted.  “I--the lack of underclothes is--”

General Murzuth jerked her finger, and a strangled moan escaped me.  “What was that, beautiful? Something about your lack of underclothes?”

“It’s--tradition,” I gasped.  She pressed two fingers sideways against my clit, and my whole body twitched in pleasure.  “It’s--to show I know and accept what I’m here for,” I said all in one breath, as fast as I could.

“Well, I think _that’s_ been made clear, little treasure.”  The general’s voice was low, husky, and syrupy sweet.  “You’re such a delightful, needy little treat. It won’t be hard to make you cum at all.”  As if for emphasis, she rubbed two fingers hard against the underside of my clit. My back arched, and I made a throaty, animal noise.  I tried to press into her hand again, but again she pulled it away.

“Your village couldn’t have sent a better messenger,” Murzuth continued, her lips and tusks brushing against the shell of my ear.  “You’re worth a caravan of jewels just for the pleasure of making you my whore.” She bit my earlobe, and I yelped. “And that’s not even counting all the pleasure I’ll get from you _after_.”

“Ma’am… General…” I thrust frantically against her hand, trying to get friction, but she just laughed and pulled away.  I groaned, then gulped air and tried my best to glare at her. “Awfully bold talk for someone who hasn’t even gotten me close yet.”

“Oh, I haven’t?” she arched that same pierced eyebrow again and slid a finger into my pussy.  I moaned. There was the stimulation I’d been yearning for. Her finger was as thick as two of mine, but I was so wet it slid in easily.  I clenched down around it, savoring the feeling of something inside me.

General Murzuth watched me with a look of amusement.  “Oh, clever, naughty girl. Trying to bait me into filling your cunt when you haven’t earned it.  No, beautiful, if you want satisfaction, you’ll need to beg for it.” She pulled her finger out.

I felt bereft, almost betrayed.  “Excuse me?” I sputtered. “Have you forgotten that _you’re_ trying to earn _me_?  Why would I beg you to keep me here?”

Murzuth shrugged.  “I told you, lovely, I like a challenge.  I could claim you right now.” She traced a gentle circle over my clit to prove her point.  My breath hitched, and I felt a hot, tingling sensation bubbling up under her finger. “But that would be too easy.  I don’t want you to just belong to me by tradition or duty. I want all of you, little elf maiden.”  Her finger continued to slide over my clit in little circles, agonizingly slow. The tingling, tickling feeling was so intense now I could hardly concentrate on her words, and it didn’t help when she slid another finger over my dripping pussy.

“I want you to know exactly what you’re so desperate for,” she whispered.  “I want you to yearn for an orgasm you know the consequences of. I want to hear you plead for me to take your freedom away, hear you beg to be my little slut.”

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.  There was warmth spreading slowly through my body from her finger’s slow circles on my clit, and if I could get just a _little_ more pressure--

Murzuth pulled her hand away.  “Beg for it, beautiful.”

I almost whined, but I bit it back and held my breath until the delicious tingling died down.  I could have sobbed for the loss. “Never.”

Murzuth slid two fingers against the entrance to my pussy, covering them in the wetness that was starting to drip down my thighs, and lightly stroked my labia.  My pussy clenched around nothing. “Are you sure, little treasure? Sure you don’t want something nice and thick to fill that poor, needy cunt of yours?”

I did, but I grit my teeth.  I wasn’t about to admit it.

“I could fuck you juuuuust right,” Murzuth whispered.  “Fill you up so deep you’d never be satisfied with any other cock again.  Leave lovebites all over that soft, perfect skin. Leave you panting and exhausted in my bed, too blissed out to move.  Make you _mine_.”

As she spoke, the thumb of the hand that wasn’t teasing my pussy brushed over one of my nipples, which was already stiff under the thin fabric of my dress.  I twitched and yelped, and my cunt convulsed, desperate for contact. I couldn’t resist a small, quiet “Ma’am…”

Murzuth kissed my neck, her tusks surprisingly smooth against my skin.  “Yes, lovely? You want something?”

I squeezed my eyes shut.  “General. I--” I stopped. I would not beg.

Murzuth let the pause hang there, punctuated by little gasps and whimpers as she continued to fondle my nipples and tease my dripping pussy.  After a long, agonizing moment, she smirked.  “Maybe you just need another taste of what’s to come."

She dragged her fingers from my labia back to my clit, spreading the wetness further over my skin, and began to rub it again.  I closed my eyes and let my head tilt back. Her fingers were so much bigger than mine, but still so dextrous, so utterly capable of hitting all the right places with just the right pressure, and smoothed by the wetness of my own desperate pussy.  She rolled my nipple between her fingers and I felt the tingling start again, warm and heady and intoxicating, and I pressed my hips into her hand, so close--

Both her hands stilled.  I hung there, frozen, as the hot, sweet feeling ebbed away.  “You’re so _mean_ ,” I finally managed.

Murzuth smirked.  “Would a mean woman do this?”  She twitched the two fingers still resting on my clit, and my back arched as I almost came again.  Then she stopped, and I breathed a sigh of relief and disappointment.

“Yes!” I let the frustration leak into my voice.

“Poor girl.”  Murzuth stroked my hair.  “A victim of her own pride…”

I whined.  She kissed my cheek and began to explore my body one-handed, still keeping two fingers on my clit.  She traced the shapes of my cheekbones, the pointed tips of my ears, my soft lips. She caressed her way down my neck, my collarbones, my shoulders, my back; she cupped each breast in turn and stroked my nipples with her thumb.  She traced my waist again, then squeezed my buttocks; she even bent down to kiss her way down my thighs and calves. Finally, she knelt down so that her mouth was level with my crotch. She pressed her face into the hair covering my pubic mound and inhaled.

“You smell delicious,” she said.  “I would love to taste you.”

Her fingers on my clit were still, but my legs twitched.  “Do it.”

Her tongue was thick, wet, and strong, and her tusks pressed against the crease of my thighs as she sealed her lips around my clit.  I jerked where I hung suspended in the air, my fists clenching, moaning. She slipped two fingers into my cunt, and I made some broken exclamation.  I was there again, I was so close, I felt like I could dissolve into light--

Murzuth withdrew and stood up.  She grabbed my thighs with her hands, holding them apart, while I whined desperately.  “Ask nicely,” she said against my mouth. I kissed her.

She kissed me back, her tongue brushing my upper lip, letting me pull her lower lip between mine.  Her enormous hands began to spread my ass-cheeks, and I squirmed and whimpered in her grip, trying to fuck myself on her fingers.

“Aww, little treasure,” Murzuth cooed, pulling away from the kiss.  “Are you too far gone to even use your words?”

I was about to nod, but then one of her still-slick fingers brushed against my asshole.  I threw my head back and moaned. “General… Murzuth…”

“Yes, my little slut?”

“M--ah!--ma’am…”

She had wrapped her other hand around the side of my waist again, and was pulling me down so that my clit rubbed against her erection.  I couldn’t believe I’d been so absorbed in what she was doing to me that I hadn’t even noticed her taking her own skirt off. But now I could feel her cock against me, long and thick and warm and wet, and I wanted it more than I had ever wanted anything.

“ _Please_ , ma’am,” I whimpered.

“Mmm.”  She twitched her fingers against my asshole, rutting up to slide the length of her erection along my clit, and I nearly sobbed.  “Please what, Alanthe?”

“ _Please_ fuck me,” I begged.  “Fill me with your cock, put your fingers in my asshole, pinch my nipples, make me cum!  Please!”

Murzuth grinned and stepped away once more.  I felt a sudden rush of rage--she was going to make me debase myself like that and then not even give me what I’d begged for?--but then she reached up and untied the rope around my wrists from the ceiling beams.  When she had done that, she said something in Orcish, and the levitation spell faded. I slipped down into her waiting arms.

She carried me bridal-style to a bed near the wall of the tent.  There, she sat down, positioned me on her lap so I was straddling her, and began to gently lower me onto her dick.  I could almost have come just from the feeling of her filling me, slick and warm and stretching me a little, even though I was so loose and wet.  My pussy clenched hungrily as I ground down and she bucked up, and I groaned as we buried her to the hilt in me. She pressed one finger into my ass and I whined in pleasure; it felt so intense with my cunt already so full, and the sensation and the dirtiness of it made me even more desperate.  My clit tingled like it itself was begging, and I half-sobbed, half-screamed into Murzuth’s shoulder as she slipped her hand between us and rubbed it.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I babbled.  She kissed my cheek and didn’t stop fucking me.  “Gods, M--General--ma’am--Ge-- _please,_ please, I want to cum, I’m so close, you’re so good, oh gods, thank you, please--please--General!--I--”  There was a particularly deep thrust, and I moaned, collapsing into her shoulder again. “ _Please_ , General, I’m so desperate, I want it, I want you--I’m all yours, ma’am, I’m your little slut--oh, gods--please, please, ma’am, oh gods, come inside me or--anything, something, please, please use me, please let me--make me yours…”

“Come for me, Alanthe,” Murzuth gasped.

The tingling feeling shot through me like a bolt of lightning, from my clit, from my nipples, from my ass, and from deep in my cunt.  I screamed and clung to Murzuth. She jerked under me, and we spasmed together; she growled deep and low and loud, a rumbling contralto accompaniment to my staccato cries.  My muscles seized, and as her cum filled me, the feeling of new, wetter fullness and of being owned pushed me over the edge again. I keened helplessly into her shoulder, grinding down again on her softening cock.

When I regained some level of composure, Murzuth was rubbing my back, making low, soothing sounds into my ear.  I did, in fact, feel soothed. I snuggled closer to her, rested my head on her shoulder, and kissed her neck.

“How are you doing?” she asked softly.

I gave her a squeeze.  “Really good… Murzuth.”

She smiled.

“About everything?” she pressed.  “What would your village think? You can still see them, by the way, if you want to.”

“That’d be nice,” I murmured.  “I think they’d be happy for me.”

Murzuth’s hand on my back stilled, and I looked up to see her almost-smiling, brows furrowed, head tilted to the side.  I shrugged. “They’d be happy that I’m happy,” I explained.

At that, Murzuth’s almost-smile broke into a full one.  “Then they and I have something in common.”


End file.
